Welcome, Neighbor!

About Me

I am a Ph.D. student at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion. I study the History of Biblical Interpretation, which includes Jewish and Christian interpretations of the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament. My interests are religion, politics, TV, movies, and reading.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

S.G.F. Brandon, ed. The Saviour God: Comparative Studies in the
Concept of Salvation Presented to Edwin Oliver James, Professor Emeritus
in the University of London by Colleagues and Friends to Commemorate
His Seventy-Fifth Birthday. Manchester University Press, 1963.

This 1963 book was edited by S.G.F. Brandon, who would later go on to write Jesus and the Zealots (see my review of that here). The Saviour God
is a collection of scholarly essays about the concept of salvation in
various religions, including ancient Near Eastern religion, mystery
cults, the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament, Buddhism, Taoism, Yoruba
African religion, Islam, and Hinduism. “Salvation” is a broad-ranging
term, and it can encompass gaining eternal life, receiving blessings in
the here and now, becoming enlightened or freed from selfishness, being
released from the cycle of reincarnation, or political liberation. A
common thread across these religions (with exceptions) is a reliance on some higher power
for salvation, whether that be defined as a deity, an advanced human
being, or something more impersonal.

At least three issues in particular stood out to me as I read this book:

1. A couple of scholars touched on the question of whether
Christianity influenced certain non-Christian conceptions of salvation.
The Yoruba in Africa have a story about the Supreme Being sending a
divine sort of being (though some versions say he was human) named
Qrunmila to the land to persuade the gods to accept the elements or to
give people guidance and blessing. The author of the essay about this
topic, E.G. Parrinder, does not believe that this story came about
through Christian influence, for “most of these myths seem indigenous
and they are not hard to explain from local materials” (page 121).
While stories about Qrunmila and other African saviors may overlap with
Christianity, it is important to recognize that Yoriba religion and its
treatment of the savior deity have their own emphases, some of which
differ from Christianity; such emphases include divination, a focus on
fertility, and avatars.

Another scholar in the book asked the question of whether certain
Buddhist conceptions of a savior could have been influenced by Nestorian
Christianity, but this scholar chose not to to answer that question.

2. Within popular debates, people wonder if the myth of Osiris had
any influence on the story of Jesus, since Osiris was a dying and a
rising god. Detractors among both Christians and non-Christians
emphatically say “no,” noting that Osiris after he was resurrected
impregnated Isis and went to the underworld to rule, which was quite
different from Jesus’ resurrection (see my post about this topic here). Interestingly, the scholars in The Saviour God
who wrote about Osiris knew a lot of the Egyptian story—-Osiris and
Seth fight, Seth kills Osiris, Osiris is resurrected and impregnates
Isis with Horus, Isis later exacts revenge on Seth, etc.—-but they left
out the part about Osiris going to the underworld soon after his
resurrection. One scholar quoted a passage by Lucius, a participant in
the Isis mystery religion, that denied that Osiris was even under the
earth, placing him instead in some pure, deathless realm. All of this
puzzled me. Was not Osiris the Egyptian lord of the underworld? Did
these scholars not know that? Did Osiris going to the underworld become
more evident to scholars over time? If so, did such a discovery or
fresh reading mark the time when scholars concluded that the
Osiris-Jesus parallel did not hold water?

3. When I was reading David Marshall’s books, an issue that came up
was tribal and Asian acknowledgment of a Supreme Being. Marshall was
criticizing the view that religion went through animist, polytheist,
then monotheistic stages, arguing instead that belief in a Supreme Being
was long a part of tribal and (certain) Asian religions. See my posts
about that topic here, here, and here. Where did the essays in The Saviour God
line up on this issue? The essay about African religions disputed that
the Yoruba religion was animistic instead of theistic, noting a belief
in a Supreme Being, while also acknowledging diversity and complexity.
An essay about Chinese religion, however, regarded Chinese religion as
focused on ancestors initially, before there developed some sort of
belief in a Supreme Being.

In I Chronicles 12, Israel comes to David while he is in Ziklag
to support him. David is still on the run from King Saul of Israel. I
have four thoughts about this chapter. In this post, I will use the
King James Version, which is in the public domain.

1. I Chronicles 12:1-2 state: “Now these are they that came to David
to Ziklag, while he yet kept himself close because of Saul the son of
Kish: and they were among the mighty men, helpers of the war. They were
armed with bows, and could use both the right hand and the left in
hurling stones and shooting arrows out of a bow, even of Saul’s brethren
of Benjamin.”

Benjaminites, people from Saul’s tribe, were coming to David to
support him. They were ambidextrous, which means that they could
effectively use both their right and their left hands. They were
probably left-handed but trained themselves to use their right hand as
well. The left-handedness of the Benjaminites is mentioned also in the
Book of Judges. The Benjaminite judge Ehud was left-handed (Judges
3:15), as were the Benjaminites who were fighting the rest of Israel
near the end of the Book of Judges (Judges 20:16). Because the
Benjaminites were ambidextrous, they could be formidable in battle, for
their enemies may have been unaccustomed to fighting people who could
use both hands!

According to the Intervarsity Press Bible Background Commentary,
“Left-handedness was not acceptable in the ancient world because it was
generally associated with evil or demons”, so “anyone who was
left-handed became ambidextrous because the use of the left hand in many
situations was not approved” (page 415). Yet, the Bible
depicts Israel using left-handedness as opposed to stigmatizing it.
That does not necessarily mean that Israel was vastly more progressive
than the rest of the ancient world, for the fact that left-handed people
in Israel were ambidextrous may indicate the ancient Israel, too,
attached some stigma to left-handedness: Why else would left-handed
people feel a need to learn to use the other hand? Still, the
stigma must not have been that strong, for ancient Israel used
left-handedness to her advantage, and the Bible does not criticize the
left-handed for being left-handed. This coincides with how I would like
to see God and God’s community: as accepting and inclusive, and as
acknowledging the talents of all members, allowing each to play an
important role.

2. I Chronicles 12:8 states: “And of the Gadites there separated
themselves unto David into the hold to the wilderness men of might, and
men of war fit for the battle, that could handle shield and buckler,
whose faces were like the faces of lions, and were as swift as the roes
upon the mountains”.The Orthodox Jewish Artscroll commentary believes it is significant that the tribe of Gad was the first Israelite tribe to side with David. Building
on such Jewish sources as Genesis Rabbah 99:2 and the Midrash Lekach
Tov, it notes that Gad is notorious for firsts: it was the first tribe
to enter the land of Canaan, it was the first to accept David as king
when David was still in exile from King Saul, and Elijah (perhaps a
Gadite) will be the first to recognize the Messiah.
People are different. Some are enthusiastic, take risks, and like to
rush into things. Others are quiet and reserved and may prefer to step
back and think about things before jumping into the fray. Both are
important, for enthusiasm motivates others, while being reserved adds
wisdom to the mix.

3. I Chronicles 12:18 states: “Then the spirit came upon Amasai, who
was chief of the captains, and he said, Thine are we, David, and on thy
side, thou son of Jesse: peace, peace be unto thee, and peace be to
thine helpers; for thy God helpeth thee. Then David received them, and
made them captains of the band.”

There is debate about whether this spirit that came upon Amasai was the spirit of God or Amasai’s own human spirit.
John MacArthur interprets it as the spirit of God, commenting that what
happened to Amasai was “A temporary empowerment by the Holy Spirit to
assure David that the Benjaminites and Judahites were loyal to him and
that the cause was blessed by God.” V 18 does not explicitly
say that the spirit is the spirit of God, however, and so Jewish
interpreters Mefarash, Radak, and Metzudos contend that the spirit there
is “the enthusiasm which prompted Amasai to assume the role of
spokesman for his companions” (Artscroll). I am drawn more to
MacArthur’s interpretation, for I like stories about God working and
influencing things to turn out smoothly. That motivates me to ask God
in prayer to send his spirit into certain situations, especially ones
that intimidate me because they appear so uncertain. At the same time, I
think it is important for me to honor and have gratitude towards those
who, by their own initiative, have helped me out.

Interestingly, I Chronicles 12:18 states that the spirit clothed
Amasai. In the Septuagint, the Greek word that is used for “clothed” is
enduo. That is the same Greek word that is used in Luke
24:49, where Jesus promises his disciples that they will be clothed with
power from on high, which probably refers to their empowerment by the
Holy Spirit in Acts 2. In the New Testament, Holy Spirit can dwell
within people, even fill them. But, for certain tasks, the Holy Spirit
clothes them.

In the Jewish Study Bible, David Rothstein relates I Chronicles 12:18 to the general ideology of the Chronicler.
Rothstein states: “Whereas many biblical books view prophecy as the
exclusive prerogative of ‘professional’ prophets whose activity centers
on the monarchy, Chronicles maintains that any individual, even a
non-Israelite, may, under the proper circumstances, serve as a conduit
for conveying the divine will; hence, Amasai, a military man,
experiences ad hoc prophecy. The possession formulae (the spirit
seized) introduce the speeches of ‘non-prophets’ only, indicating that
Chronicles differentiates between this group and ‘professional’
prophets.”

Rothstein is probably right about the Chronicler’s ideology: that it
respects the professional prophets, while recognizing that God can speak
through anyone. I think of II Chronicles 35:21-22, in which the
Egyptian king Neco warns the righteous Judahite king Josiah not to fight
the Egyptian forces, and Neco’s words are considered to be a message
from God. At the same time, at least against the background of biblical
thought, I do not think that the Chronicler was revolutionary in
believing that God could speak through other people besides professional
prophets. Amos was not a professional prophet, nor was Elijah.

4. I Chronicles 12 strikes a number of scholars as idealistic, for things did not go as smoothly for David in I-II Samuel.
Whereas I Chronicles 12 depicts Israel coming to David in support while
David was still on the run from King Saul, I-II Samuel presents David
enduring a rough road: even after Saul died, the Kingdom of Israel was
split between supporters of David and supporters of Saul’s son and
successor, Ish-bosheth.

Can I learn any spiritual lessons from I Chronicles 12, even if its picture may be overly idealistic? For
that matter, can I trust stories from Christians about God’s work in
their lives, or should I instead regard them with skepticism, as
idealistic, or as Christians conforming events to their own ideology?
I one time heard a Christian say that, if you are unsure what story to
believe, believe the story that glorifies God. Maybe that is good, on
some level, since it encourages people to hope. At the same time, there
have been far too many Christian leaders who have referred to God’s
alleged work in their lives as a way to prop up their power, to imply
that those who question or oppose them are actually going against God.

I will pray for God’s spirit in my day-to-day life. As far as other
people’s stories about their spiritual experiences are concerned, I will
respect them, and I will not discount that God may have acted in such a
manner that convinced them of God’s love and care for them. Yet, I
will remember that life can be messy, and I will not conclude from
people’s spiritual experiences that everything they say, do, or promote
is right. God showed them his care and concern. God may have even done
so with a broader agenda in mind, to perform a great move that would
bless a lot of people. That does not obligate me to recognize them as
an authority over my life.

Friday, May 30, 2014

For its Bible study, my church is going through When God’s People Pray, by Jim Cymbala. Yesterday, we did Session 2, “The Amazing Power of Prayer.”

Here are some thoughts:

1. Recently, in the blogosphere, there have been mainline
Protestants who have been pretty down on prayer. Or so it seems to me.
They see a distinction between praying about a situation and actually
doing something to fix that situation. Some commenters allege that
prayer can be an excuse to avoid action: people can pray for people,
without taking concrete steps to help them.

Jim Cymbala on the DVD that I watched last night, however, did not
act as if prayer and actions were somehow at odds with each other.
Rather, he said that prayer can empower people to act. And it can bless
the actions. Dwight Moody preached, but the Holy Spirit, in answer to
people’s prayers, made his words weighty and effective.

2. I was thinking overall about my church and whether it will
practice the principles of the Bible study, or if this will just be
another Bible study that we go through, in which we say the right
things, but nothing really changes. I think that people in the group
recognize the importance of prayer. One lady in the group, who is
organizing the Vacation Bible School, says that this task needs prayer
to succeed, for kids in the community have so many other things that
they might want to do this summer than go to Vacation Bible School. But
will our church have a prayer meeting, of the sort that we see on the
Bible study DVD? I have my doubts. That’s not part of our tradition.
Individuals in the church may value prayer. They may even have a
heritage of prayer—-the pastor talks about how his Welsh grandfather was
a prayer warrior. But will they gather together and deliver powerful,
sermonic sorts of prayers? I can’t see it. It’s not due to a lack of
commitment. There are many people who show up at church every single
Sunday, and Bible study often draws ten people or more. But that’s
gathering together to watch a program. Gathering together to pray,
though? I have difficulty imagining that! But they probably will pray
at the start and close of meetings about the Vacation Bible School.

3. Do I believe that prayer can grow a church? I don’t know. There
are plenty of examples in which people in a church pray, and the church
grows. I one time went to a church that seemed to value prayer,
however, and it did not grow. Maybe the problem was that we did not
stick with a prayer schedule. Or perhaps the deal was that prayer was
not enough, but we needed to go out and witness, as well. The thing is,
though, pastors guilt-tripping me into witnessing is a huge turn-off to
me. My impression as I watch our Bible study’s DVD is that Jim
Cymbala’s Brooklyn Tabernacle does not guilt people into witnessing.
Still, people from that church do witness. Perhaps prayer creates an
attitude of joyfully wanting to share God’s love with others.

4. On the DVD, Jim Cymbala was talking about a time when he had to
speak in Indianapolis, and he was planning to give a message about God’s
love. But the Holy Spirit instead wanted him to give a message about
the importance of prayer—-about how church has become a place where
people show off their talents, when it should be a house of prayer for
all peoples. Jim wrestled the night before about giving that sermon.
He feared that it would be controversial. His wife that night, who was
in New York, woke up and called him, saying that she sensed that he
needed prayer. Jim delivered his message the next day, and it was a
huge hit. It has circulated around the world. You can watch it here.

I don’t entirely understand why Jim was afraid to deliver his
message. Evangelical sermons often criticize how people do things.
Still, his message resonated to me. Church should not be about showing
off talent. Rather, it should focus on God. Yes, people have spiritual
gifts and talents, and they should use those in church, but,
ultimately, the focus should be on God.

5. On the DVD, Jim said that the problem is not that prayer isn’t in
schools, but that prayer isn’t in churches. There were a couple of
people who were not at the Bible study last night, and I wish that they
had been there just to hear that. They complain about prayer not being
in schools.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

James Yerkes. The Christology of Hegel. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1983.

Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel was a nineteenth century German philosopher. James Yerkes’ The Christology of Hegel
is about Hegel’s view of Jesus Christ, and how that fit into Hegel’s
larger religious, historical, philosophical, and political ideas.

Yerkes’ book, as I understood it, presented a lot of tensions. Here are some of them:

1. Hegel believed that a spirit, God, was moving history forward to a
time of freedom and rationality. He treated German Protestantism as an
exemplar of where history should lead. Yet, Hegel was not always so
optimistic. At times, he did not regard German Protestantism as the
ultimate culmination of historical progress, thinking there was a yet
future stage. Hegel looked at Germany and saw problems like
factionalism. Yet, in the midst of these problems, he clung to the idea
that God is close to human beings, and he regarded Jesus’ incarnation
as an exemplar or a precursor to that.

2. Hegel believed that Jesus was an essential part of historical
progress. Jesus needed to be here and do what he did for humanity to
arrive at where it needed to be. For Hegel, Jesus promoted authentic
morality and embodied God’s presence with humanity. Yet, my impression
is that Hegel also had some problems with Jesus. For one, Jesus was
from a Jewish culture, and Hegel did not have a high opinion of Judaism,
believing that it promoted alienation within the human race (i.e., God
chooses a people who are separate from others). Second, Jesus had
apocalyptic and world-denying ideas, and Hegel thought this was why
Christianity encouraged separation and systemic fragmentation rather
than unity.

3. On the one hand, Hegel emphasized the importance of the
incarnation, which is God becoming man. On the other hand, Yerkes
interprets Hegel’s Christology as being rather adoptionistic: that Jesus
was a man who was particularly in tune with the divine, and so God
decided to make this man Jesus into the Christ.

4. On the one hand, Hegel championed reason. He did not care for
Shleiermacher’s subjective, feelings-oriented approach to religion. He
hoped that reason could sift between the universal and normative aspects
of Christianity and what was merely historical and cultural. He
believed in people doing what was right out of a free recognition that
it was the reasonable thing to do, and he supported political systems
that would allow that. He regarded the religion of his time as slavish
adherence to doctrines and laws, without much authenticity.

On the other hand, Hegel valued the cultural expressions of religion
(i.e., church, doctrines, practices, etc.). He believed that fed people
in a way that mere philosophy could not. He wanted to unite his
people, and culture was a way to do so. He was against human autonomy
because that could amount to each person doing what was right in his own
eyes.

5. On the one hand, Hegel believed that we can know about God
rationally. He disagreed with Immanuel Kant's idea (or an idea
attributed to Kant) that we cannot know anything about God through
reason. For Hegel, we can see that we are finite, and thus we can draw
the conclusion that there is an infinite. On the other hand, Hegel
thought that people could believe in God as a result of illumination
from the Spirit.

This was my impression after reading Yerkes’ book, and I may have
missed some nuances. Yerkes was a clear author in terms of his prose,
clearer than many who write about philosophy. But I am unclear as to
how Hegel held all these tensions together, assuming I am correct in
saying there are tensions in the first place.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

When did I first hear of Maya Angelou? It may have been when my Mom
was a college student. Her major was African-American studies. She
brought home some of Maya Angelou’s works, such as I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I was a conservative at the time, so I liked Maya’s poem that was criticizing white liberals.
Perhaps I had a sense that she thought that white liberals talked a
good game but doubted whether they were fully committed to the
African-American struggle for freedom. I don’t know how much of the
poem I understood then. I just liked that she was criticizing white
liberals!

I think that my Mom and my Grandma went to hear her speak.

In high school, we students had to watch Channel One, which was a
daily news program. It featured Maya Angelou reciting her poems a
couple of times. In 1993, we watched Bill Clinton’s inauguration, and she read one of her poems there. I also saw a commercial in which Maya’s poem, “Still I Rise,” was recited, and I found it to be powerful.

I thought about Maya Angelou not long ago because I was going through the Touched by an Angel
series, and she was on one of the episodes. That was cool, that she
was on that show! I had vague recollections of her poem at Clinton’s
inauguration, so I decided to watch it on YouTube.

1. Robert Price’s opening speech was fantastic. A lot of times,
Christian apologists argue that we can trust what the New Testament says
about Jesus because eyewitnesses to Jesus were around to correct any
misconceptions. These eyewitnesses were supposed to be like the Snopes
of the day, Price said. But Price disputed this argument by pointing to
times in the New Testament when eyewitnesses, and even Jesus himself,
were not able to control what was said about Jesus. Jesus told people
he healed not to tell anyone about the healing, but they went out and
did so anyway. Jesus asked his disciples who people were saying that he
was, and the disciples listed all sorts of ideas that were circulating
(and, as Price said, contra C.S. Lewis, not one of those ideas was that
Jesus was God). There were Judaizers who claimed that Jesus wanted
Gentiles to be circumcised and keep the Torah to be saved, whereas Paul
had a different viewpoint. Price also asked how eyewitnesses could even
refute that Jesus said something. It’s not as if any of the
eyewitnesses heard every single thing that Jesus said!

James White in his opening speech encouraged the audience
to read Price’s books and to compare them with other books. Ironically, one of the
books that White recommended was Reinventing Jesus, which actually makes the eyewitness argument that Price was trying to refute. (See my review of Reinventing Jesushere.)

Overall, I get joy when skeptics appeal to the Bible to refute
Christian apologetics. It shows that the Bible does not always fit into
the predictable, air-tight mold into which Christian apologists try to
consign it. Price’s wit was also enjoyable to listen to. In my
opinion, Price did a better job in his debate with James White than he
did in his debate with William Lane Craig.

2. A lot of times, I hear Christian apologists argue that the
resurrection of Jesus is as historically supportable as other events in
history. They may note that skeptics who dismiss the resurrection of
Jesus have no problems accepting other events in history as historical,
even though acceptance of those other events may be based on sources
that were written long after the events that they purport to describe
(longer than the time between Jesus and the Gospels).

That argument has long bothered me. I am impressed when William Lane
Craig uses the criteria of historicity that the Jesus Seminar uses as
he supports his thesis that Jesus rose from the dead. But I question
whether something so contingent as history can give us guidance as to
the absolute will of God.

In one of his speeches, Robert Price was saying that historians rely
on probability, and that, the further one goes back in history, the
harder it is to say what actually happened. Sure, historians try to
accurately conceptualize the past, but what they say is far from
absolute, and it can even be revised in light of new evidence.

Consequently, when Christian apologists say people should become
Christian because Jesus’ resurrection is as supported as any other event
in history, I question that logic. Why should anyone base his
or her religious beliefs on something so tentative as conclusions about
what happened in history? Does that mean that I am a total skeptic
about the past? No, but I realize that what historians say is not
necessarily absolute: that they are trying to make sense of what
evidence they have, and they may not even have all of the data.

I think back to a time when I referred to one of N.T. Wright’s
arguments for Jesus’ resurrection in a paper that I wrote. Wright
argued, as I understand his argument, that people in Jesus’ historical
context did not believe that individuals bodily rose from the dead
before the end times, and so something had to give rise to the early
Christian belief that Jesus rose from the dead; for Wright, and many
Christian apologists and preachers who appeal to Wright, that something
was Jesus’ actual resurrection. But my professor was not convinced by
that argument. He said that we may some day find evidence that others
believed one could rise from the dead before the end times. Wright’s
argument may make a degree of sense, but should one build one’s beliefs
about religion on a historical argument like that, especially when we do
not know if later evidence may undercut it?

3. Robert Price holds many views that are not broadly accepted
within scholarship. He knows that. In debates with Christians, when
Christians say “most scholars say,” he regards that as an argument from
authority, and he asks that they deal with the substance of his
arguments rather than simply dismissing them with “most scholars say.” I
can understand his point-of-view on that. At the same time, I would
caution people that there may be good reasons that “most scholars say”
something.
In any case, I loved that James White in his opening speech
acknowledged that Price does not care for arguments from authority, and
White said that he would try his best to deal with the substance of
Price’s arguments rather than dismissing them with “most scholars say.”
My opinion of James White went up some notches when I heard him say
that!

4. The debate was moderated by Hank Hanegraaff, who
hosts the radio program, “The Bible Answer Man.” I used to listen to
that program. I really liked it. I even called into it one time. Hank
has a soothing radio voice.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Yesterday, I was watching a debate between Christian apologist James
White and Barry Lynn, a lawyer, United Church of Christ pastor, and
Executive Director of the Americans United for Separation of Church and
State. The debate addressed the question, “Is homosexuality compatible
with authentic Christianity?” Barry Lynn argued “yes,” while James
White argued “no.”

Overall, I would say that James White had the edge when it came to
biblical exegesis. Barry Lynn knows things about religion and the
Bible, but he admitted that he was no biblical scholar. In my opinion,
White offered better arguments about Romans 1 and I Corinthians 6:9.

Moreover, I learned something from James White’s presentation that I
did not know before. A while back, I blogged through John Boswell’s Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality. Boswell’s book has been influential among gay Christians. One argument that Boswell made is that the Greek word arsenokoites
in I Corinthians 6:9 (where Paul says that certain sinners will not
enter the Kingdom of God) does not necessarily refer to homosexuals but
could mean a male prostitute, who sleeps with men and women. The word
literally means “man bed,” and the debate is over whether that means
that the man is sleeping with people (male and female), or if the term
concerns men sleeping with men. Boswell leans towards the former
point-of-view, which distances the term from homosexuality, and thereby
distances I Corinthians 6:9 from being a condemnation of same-sex
activity. (See my post here about Boswell’s argument.)

James White, however, was arguing that Paul invented the word based
on the Septuagint of Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13. These are passages that
condemn men lying with men. In the Septuagint for both passages, we
see the Greek word arsenos for “man,” and also the word koiten for “bed.” These are the very words in Paul’s term arsenokoites in I Corinthians 6:9. Did Paul have in mind the Septuagint of Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13 when he invented the word arsenokoites?
If so, then Paul in I Corinthians 6:9 was condemning men lying with
men. Barry Lynn was not able to refute James White’s points about
Boswell’s scholarship, scholarly critiques of it, and biblical
languages.

Lynn still did manage, however, to make good points, or at least to
ask good questions. Leviticus 18:22 states that men lying with men is toevah,
an abomination, and, as James White noted, the end of the chapter says
that God drove out the Canaanites from the land for sins such as this,
indicating that Leviticus 18 is authoritative, not just for Israel, but
for all people. But, Lynn noted, Deuteronomy 24:4 says that a man
putting away his wife and then remarrying her is toevah and
causes the land to sin. Would the religious right consider divorced
people remarrying each other to be sinful and incompatible with
authentic Christianity, as it does with homosexuality?

Lynn also interrogated White about whether White agreed with
Leviticus 20:13′s statement that men who lay down with men should be put
to death: Did White believe that society today should do that? White’s
answer, in my opinion, was rather muddled. White denied that he
supports an Old Testament theocracy in America. He said that he does
not trust current politicians to do that, and he noted that the Old
Testament theocracy was headed by godly men. Lynn asked if White would
support execution for homosexuals if godly men presided over the
government. In the course of the conversation, White appealed to Romans
13 as evidence that the New Testament supports the secular authorities
carrying out the death penalty. I guess that, where White landed, he
was against America executing homosexuals, but his manner of defending
that thesis was muddled, a far cry from his usual precision.

Lynn also questioned some of White’s political and health arguments. White referred to a gay manifesto (I presume it is this)
that called for the lowering of the age of consent, and Lynn denied
that this manifesto reflects the views of all gay people. (Note:
Reading the manifesto, it seems to me that it is against making age 21
the legal age of consent for gay people, while straight people have a
lower age of consent.) White also cited statistics about homosexuals
dying earlier than most people due to health problems, and Lynn inquired
what the minority of healthy homosexuals are doing that keeps them
healthy. Lynn did not make this point, but some have argued that the
very stigma attached to homosexuality encouraged a number of homosexuals
to have more reckless sex, in secret, and that contributed to the spread among
homosexuals of sexually-transmitted diseases.

You can watch the debate here. The sound quality was bad for the first hour, but it was better in the second hour-and-thirty-seven minutes.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Dieter Georgi. The Opponents of Paul in Second Corinthians. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986.

This book is a 1986 English translation of Georgi’s 1964 work in
German, with new epilogues in which Georgi clarifies and refines his
positions. The book is about the apostle Paul’s opponents in II
Corinthians2:14-7:4 and II Corinthians 10-13, the superapostles about
whom Paul complains.

Some scholars have argued that the superapostles were associated with
the Jerusalem church, where James and Peter were influential, and that
the letters of recommendation that the superapostles presented to the
church in Corinth were from the Christian church in Jerusalem. Some
contend that Paul was fighting the legalism of the Jerusalem church in
writing II Corinthians, particularly the Jerusalem church’s (alleged)
attempt to get Gentile Christians to be circumcised and obey the law of
Moses. Georgi, however, disagrees with this view, noting that the issue
of legalism does not come up in II Corinthians. Georgi still believes,
however, that the superapostles’ activity was related to Judaism,
particularly Hellenistic Jewish apologetics and missionary activity.

According to Georgi, in the New Testament period, there were
itinerant Jewish missionaries who prophesied and impressed people with
their magic and wonders. Not only did itinerant Jewish missionaries do
this, but so did wandering philosophers and teachers. They got money
from people who were impressed by their works, and they competed for
prominence and influence. Moreover, within Jewish Apologetic
literature, such as Philo, there is the concept of a divine man: a
person so in tune with God that he actually partakes of the divine.
This was true of Moses, according to Jewish Apologists, and the hope was
expressed that others, too, could partake of the divine, as Moses did.
Jewish Apologetic literature also stressed biblical interpretation as a
way to experience the divine, and it revered antiquity, claiming that
it represented the old and the true.

It is against this background that one can understand the
superapostles in II Corinthians, Georgi argues. The superapostles were
trying to impress the Corinthian church with their wonders and power,
and the Corinthian church was responding by paying them, showing their
appreciation that the superapostles were working in their midst. The
letters of recommendation that the superapostles were bringing were not
from the Jerusalem church, as far as Georgi was concerned, but were from
other places, and they were a way to advertise the power of the
superapostles; George states that the superapostles actually wanted a
letter of recommendation from the Corinthian church, as well! The
superapostles also maintained that interpreting the law of Moses could
lift the Corinthian Christians to higher spiritual levels, transforming
them from one degree to another. Moreover, the superapostles admired
Jesus on account of Jesus’ wonders.

According to Georgi, Paul in II Corinthians is responding to these
sorts of claims and beliefs. Paul contrasts himself with the
superapostles by saying that, while the superapostles wanted money for
their wonders, Paul did not demand money from the Corinthian church but
got a job to support himself. While the superapostles were primarily
interested in their own prestige, Paul cared for the Corinthian church
and had a relationship with it. The superapostles stressed impressive
wonders, and they tended to skip over Christ’s crucifixion when they
talked about Christ, focusing instead on Christ’s power. Paul, however,
emphasized humility, how God shined forth in Paul’s own weakness, and
the importance of Christ’s crucifixion. The superapostles looked to the
law of Moses as a path to spiritual progress, noting its antiquity as
an indication of its authority. Paul, by contrast, said that the Old
Covenant of condemnation was nullified, and that it was by looking to
Christ that believers spiritually progress. Paul, according to Georgi,
was quite revolutionary in supporting the new over the old.

A number of scholars might question some of Georgi’s claims. First,
there is debate about whether or not Second Temple Judaism even had an
active missionary program (see here).
Georgi is on the “yes” side of this debate, but there are scholars on
the “no” side. Second, there is debate about whether Christianity was
unique (or at least rare) in terms of its miracle claims, and whether
pagans and other non-Christians in the New Testament period technically
performed miracles (see here and here).
Some scholars, therefore, might challenge any notion that Hellenistic
Jewish missionaries were out there doing miracles, competing among
themselves and with other itinerants. Third, while Georgi refers to
Apollonius, who did miracles, Apollonius’ story was written a few
centuries after the New Testament period and may reflect Christian
influence.

I also have questions about whether or not Georgi can conflate
itinerant Jewish missionaries with things written in Philo about the
divine man, or biblical interpretation.

Still, I do think that Georgi’s case is plausible. The itinerant missionaries could have
agreed with Philo about the divine man and biblical interpretation.
Georgi also refers to Jewish magicians in the Book of Acts, which was
the New Testament period, and so such a phenomenon may very well have
existed in the time of Paul. In my opinion, the wonder-workers in
Josephus whom Georgi discusses also deserve consideration; there is some
debate about whether or not they were miracle-workers in the sense that
Jesus and the early Christians were, but I think that there is good
reason to believe that they were, on some level.

There were other issues in Georgi’s book that intrigued me. First,
there was Georgi’s argument on page 12 that II Corinthians 7:1 was not
from Paul but may reflect the thoughts of Palestinian Jewish
Christians. In II Corinthians 7:1, there is an exhortation to people to
purify themselves of defilement of flesh and spirit, and Georgi
contends that this sentiment differs from Paul, who maintained that the
flesh was corrupt rather than calling for Christians to cleanse it.
Whether or not Georgi is correct that there is a contradiction here
could probably be debated, but I like it when scholars talk about
diverse ideas in Scripture. Second, Georgi interacts with such issues
as the cessation of prophecy in Second Temple Judaism, as well as how a
belief in miracles could coincide with rationalistic attempts to
downplay miracles (particularly in Josephus). Georgi makes a pretty
convincing case that pneumatic activity was alive and well in Second
Temple Judaism.

I decided to buy this book. I got it for 17 cents on Amazon, and I
am glad that I gobbled it up, since the next lowest price was in the $10
range! I think that this book will be useful to me in terms of my own
area of research, which concerns Gentile conversion to Judaism.

Sunday, May 25, 2014

I didn’t go to church this morning. It was a beautiful day, so
my Mom, her husband, and I went to Syracuse to eat breakfast, go to the
zoo, then go to the Goodwill, which has a big store there. We didn’t
get to go to the zoo because it was crowded: the traffic extended far
back. But we did the other two things, and later we got ice-cream. I
had a strawberry shake.

The Goodwill had lots of books, not to mention videos, DVDs, and
CDs. I didn’t buy much, though, because, if I were to buy everything
that caught my eye, I’d buy up most of the store, and that would cost me
lots of money, even though most things there are cheap in price!
Consequently, I only bought what especially grabbed me.

I bought four books. The first was Karen Armstrong’s The Battle for God: A History of Fundamentalism. I recently read her History of God and found it to be enjoyable, informative, and potentially useful as a teaching resource. I figured that her Battle for God
would be similar. I did not buy her biography of the Buddha, however,
though it was also at the Goodwill. I don’t have fond memories of her
biography about Muhammad, so I shied away from her biography of the
Buddha.

The second book that I got was Charles Templeton’s Farewell to God: My Reasons for Rejecting the Christian Faith.
Charles Templeton was a Christian evangelist and close friend to Billy
Graham, but Templeton left the Christian faith. He has been on my mind
lately because I watched a movie about Billy Graham’s life, Billy: The Early Years, which I wrote about here, and also because I read a book review of William Martin’s biography of Billy Graham, A Prophet with Honor.
The review said that Billy Graham chose not to follow Templeton down
his path to skepticism because, when Graham spoke with authority about
what the Bible says, he got more converts. I’d like to read what
Templeton has to say. His character seemed intellectually sophisticated
in Billy: The Early Years, since he read a dissertation about
theologian Karl Barth, and I am curious as to how he comes across in his
book. Of course, the book is a popular rather than an academic work,
so he may simplify things.

The third book that I got was Four Views on Hell, which is
part of the Zondervan Counterpoints series. These series feature
diverse evangelical views about religious topics, as prominent
evangelicals present their cases and respond to each other. The book
about hell debates about whether hell is a literal place of eternal
fiery torment, a place where the torment is metaphorical or spiritual, a
place that is purgatorial, or a place where the wicked are annihilated
rather than one of eternal torment. I try to gobble up these Zondervan
Counterpoint books whenever I can find them at a cheap price. They are
not as cheap as I would like on Amazon. I hardly ever find them at
libraries. I’m glad that I found one at the Goodwill.

The fourth book that I got was Gordon MacDonald’s Who Stole My Church? What to Do When the Church You Love Tries to Enter the 21st Century.
It appears to be about how the older generation can deal with the
church that they love becoming different to appeal to the younger
generation. I was debating getting this book, but I finally decided to
do so because it deals with such issues as discontent with church and
the use of traditional hymns vs. more contemporary praise songs. These
are issues that interest me. Plus, the book has stories.

I was somewhat afraid that I would get into a bad mood on this trip.
When I am at home, I can take a prayer break when my mind goes in the
wrong direction. On the road, I cannot really do that—-at least not as I
do it at home, which is basically reading my Bible and praying aloud
for ten minutes. I took steps to keep my mind from going negative. I
did not turn on my computer this morning to check my blog stats.
(Yesterday’s stats were LOW, lower than they have been in years. Today,
they’re pretty good. I wanted to avoid discouragement.) Whenever my
mind thought about people who have disliked me, those I dislike, or my
flaws, I thought to myself, “I don’t want to think about that,” and that
seemed to do the trick.

Saturday, May 24, 2014

I have four items for my blog post today about I Chronicles 11. I will follow that with some reflections.

1. In I Chronicles 11, David captures Jerusalem from the Jebusites. The notes in the Jewish Study Bible (written by David Rothstein) contrast how this is depicted in I Chronicles 11 with how it is depicted in II Samuel 5.

—-In II Samuel 5, David arguably has a political motive for capturing
Jerusalem: “to consolidate his hold over a newly united political
entity (Israel and Judah), which emerged only after a lengthy period of
political instability” (Rothstein’s words). Jerusalem belonged to the
Jebusites, not to any of the Israelite tribes, and so David’s
establishment of Jerusalem as the capital city would appease all of the
tribes, in that David would not be showing favoritism to any of them.
In I Chronicles 11, by contrast, David already has the support of all
Israel, even before he takes Jerusalem from the Jebusites. Whereas II
Samuel 5 presents David taking Jerusalem with the help of his own men, I
Chronicles 11:4 affirms that all Israel accompanied David to take over
Jerusalem. David in II Samuel 5 captures Jerusalem to appease the
tribes and consolidate his hold over the nation, whereas David already
has all of the nation’s support in I Chronicles 11. Why, then, did
David see a need to conquer Jerusalem in I Chronicles 11? According to
Rothstein, it was because David in I Chronicles 11 foresaw that
Jerusalem would be religiously important, which would be true: it would
be the site of the Temple.

—-In II Samuel 5:6b, 8, David appears to run all over the lame and
the blind to take the city of Jerusalem from the Jebusites. The
Jebusites said that the lame and the blind would be able to hold David’s
forces back, and David proved the Jebusites wrong. I Chronicles 11
lacks that, and Rothstein speculates that this may be because it does
not want to depict David as prejudiced against the lame and the blind.

2. I Chronicles 11:17-19 troubles some people. David longs for
water from the well of his home town of Bethlehem, but the Philistine
garrison is there. Three of David’s men bravely break through the
Philistine ranks, draw water from the well, and bring the water back to
David. David then refuses to drink the water but pours it out as a
drink offering to God, for his three men put their lives in danger by
getting that water for him.

Some religious readers have problems with this because it appears
that David was initially commanding his men to get him the water—-to
risk their lives just because he wanted a drink. That looks pretty
trivial to them! Consequently, some preachers note that David was
merely expressing a wish, not making a command.

The Orthodox Jewish Artscroll commentary presents another
interpretation: David was not requesting water, but rather something
more serious: halakhic guidance—-guidance on how to obey God’s law.
David was curious as to whether he could take barley for his men’s
animals from Jewish farmers and later pay those Jewish farmers back with
lentils that he was about to take from a Philistine field (see vv
13-14). David’s three intrepid men risk their lives to inquire of the
Sanhedrin and learn that David as king is indeed allowed to commandeer
crops from Jewish farmers and pay them back later. David decides,
however, not to benefit from this royal privilege. This, according to
the Artscroll, is a view within rabbinic literature.

Some Christian pastors try to get homiletical meaning from I
Chronicles 11:17-19: David’s wish was his three men’s command, as God’s
wish should be our command.

3. I Chronicles 11:41 refers to Uriah the Hittite. The Artscroll
cites Babylonian Talmud Kiddushin 7b, which states that the men of v 41
were Israelites, and that they are being mentioned in reference to where
they lived, not their nationality. Uriah was not a Hittite, according
to this reasoning, but was an Israelite who had lived among the
Hittites. This interpretation makes a degree of sense, for why would a
Hittite have a name that refers to the God of Israel: Uriah means “YHWH
is my light”? Perhaps one could respond that YHWH was honored by
non-Israelites and thus a Hittite could have a Yahwistic name, or that
Uriah changed his name to Uriah from something else when he joined
David’s men. I don’t know.

4. A few evangelical preachers I heard drew from I Chronicles 11 the
lesson that Jesus is the only way to God: as all Israel followed David,
so should all people follow Jesus, otherwise they won’t be in the
kingdom. It’s interesting to me, however, that David in I-II Samuel and
I Chronicles honors those who honored Saul, the very one who was
against David. David honored goodness wherever he saw it. Yet, those
who honored Saul still had to honor David once David became king! Or at
least they could not revolt against David. What can a Christian do
with these insights, assuming that she wants to draw a typological
connection between I Chronicles 11 and Jesus? Perhaps she could say
that Jesus honors virtue wherever he sees it, even from non-Christians,
but that, at a certain point in time, everyone will have to believe in
Jesus and accept Jesus’ authority to be in the kingdom of God. Some may
say that the time for this has past: In the Book of Acts, God honored
Cornelius’ good works, and God let nations go their own way in the past,
but now God is commanding people to believe in Jesus, and God has
demonstrated Jesus’ authority as judge by raising him from the dead
(Acts 17:31). Others may argue that the time when people are expected
or commanded to believe in Jesus will come in the future, when Jesus
will rule the earth and his authority will be evident to all (something
that is not currently the case).

Reflections: The Chronicler makes David look better than II Samuel
does, and the rabbis make David look even better than the Chronicler
does. You have all these spins, wrestling with who David was and how he
related to all Israel. Should all of this spin undermine the religious
value of the Bible, for those who seek religious value in this book?
It might, for some. I personally see something divine behind all these
human wrestlings: I see profound points about God being at work, the
importance of doing good, and dependence on God. These ideals are
important, even though people fall short, while occasionally manifesting
flashes of goodness.

Friday, May 23, 2014

My church did not have its Bible study last night because the pastor was at his granddaughter’s birthday party.

So what should I write about today? I was visiting a Christian
blog. The blog post that I was reading linked to another blog post on
that blog that interested me, so I clicked on that. And that blog post
linked to other blog posts that interested me, and I clicked on those. I
was enjoying what I was reading, since the posts made sense, plus the
author had a wry sense of humor. But eventually I came across a post
that hit a little too close to home, so I stopped reading. I had my
fill. Or so I thought. My curiosity was still there, so I visited that
very post again later that day and clicked on some of its links. Those
posts offered more hope, but they still reinforced my bad mood.

I am at the point where I prefer to pray for the fruit of the Spirit
(i.e., love, joy, peace, etc.) rather than beating myself up for not
producing enough of this fruit, or for not producing it perfectly. At
least when I pray for the fruit of the Spirit, my thoughts are positive!
Beating myself up is not exactly consistent with love, joy, peace,
patience, etc.

I am also not interested in other people’s opinions about whether I
am producing the fruit of the Spirit, for other people are not in any
position to judge. They neither see how bad I am on the inside, nor do
they see how good I am. And I am a mix, as are most people, including
those who like to sit in judgment of others! Who is another human being
to pronounce a verdict on my character? My spiritual fruit is between
me and God, not me, God, and holier-than-thou busybodies.

I know that this post is rather elliptical. I don’t care. I wasn’t
in the mood to write a blog post today, anyway. But I have committed
myself to writing a blog post everyday, and I stick with my commitments.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

I read a post not long ago, Prayson Daniel’s Scholarly Status of Logical Problem of Evil.
The problem of evil (as I understand it) states that the existence of
evil in the world is strong evidence against the existence of an
omnipotent, benevolent God.

Daniel states: “The logical problem of evil is dead. This is the
general status of the once loved argument against the existence of an
omnicompetent God in academia. The idea that existence of evil is
incompatible with the existence of God is dying.” Daniel then goes on
to quote academics who challenge the power of the problem of evil in
refuting the existence of God.

Here are some of my thoughts about the problem of evil.

1. I think that the problem of evil goes too far when it says that
the existence of evil in the world is evidence against God’s existence.
There may be a God who has reasons for temporarily permitting evil.

2. On the other hand, I do not think that many theodicies (defenses
of God) have the corner on truth. There may be something true in them,
but they usually have flaws. For example, I can envision God permitting
evil because adversity can lead us to seek God, because encountering
evil teaches us why bad is bad and encourages us to love the good all
the more, or because evil gives us opportunities to do good and thereby
develop such traits as compassion and benevolence. Do I think that such
theodicies have flaws? Yes. Some theodicies seem to treat suffering
or dying people as guinea pigs for others’ moral and spiritual growth. I
do not dismiss the possibility that God may permit suffering for the
reasons that theodicies say, but I believe that those theodicies only
have part of the truth and are not adequate, iron-clad, end-all-be-all
explanations for why God permits suffering.

3. God advertises himself as benevolent. Or, if you do not believe
in God, God is advertised as benevolent by certain religions. In light
of this, the existence of suffering will continue to challenge belief in
God. Even some of the people Prayson Daniel quotes acknowledge that,
while the deductive problem of evil may be dead in many parts of
academia, the problem of evil could still continue to exist, albeit in
another form (i.e., as an inductive argument). Jesus in Matthew 6 says
that his audience should not worry, for God will take care of their
needs (i.e., eating, clothing). Yet, there are people in the world who
die of starvation. I can understand why people conclude from this that
there is no God.

4. At the same time, I do get sick of people saying that, because
God seems inactive in the Third World, I should not pray to God or trust
God to take care of my needs or answer my prayers. Who is to say that
God is totally inactive in the Third World? There are many people in
the Third World who enjoy life: family, food, etc. There are also a lot
of Christians in the Third World: whatever suffering exists there has
not discouraged them from looking to God in faith. Why, then, should it
discourage me from having faith?

I admit, however, that I am rather sheltered, and that there are
problems in the world far beyond what I comprehend. The human community
should try to meet those problems, when it can. I applaud people who,
for whatever reason, show compassion.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Karen Armstrong. A History of God: The 4000-Year Quest of Judaism, Christianity and Islam. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1994.

I just finished a library copy of this book, but I decided to buy a
copy for myself. They run for as low as a penny on Amazon! I figured
that this would be a valuable book for me to own, for it clearly
explains the thoughts of Christian, Jewish, Islamic, existential, and
other thinkers, while placing the significance of those thoughts within
their historical contexts. The book also explores pre-Israelite
religion, Hinduism, and Buddhism. Reading this book helped me to make
sense of things that puzzled me about Immanuel Kant, David Hume, and the
various strands of the cosmological argument that William Lane Craig
discusses in The Cosmological Argument from Plato to Leibniz.
This book would not only be valuable to me as a scholar seeking to beef
up my knowledge, but also as a future teacher, seeking to explain these
things to others.

Were there times when I felt that Karen Armstrong was
over-simplifying issues? Yes, especially when she was talking about New
Testament Christology. This is understandable, though, because she is
telling a story, and she may not have wanted to disrupt it by noting all
the issues about which scholars debate. Were there times when I took
what she said with a grain of salt? Yes, as when she said on page 121
that, for St. Augustine, “God…was not an objective reality but a
spiritual presence in the complex depths of the self.” I do not
thoroughly dismiss what Armstrong is saying here, since she has read
books about Augustine, which she cites in her excellent annotated
bibliography in the back of the book. But I have difficulty accepting
that Augustine rejected the idea that God was an objective
reality—-which I understand to mean someone who is out there and real. Notwithstanding these reservations, I find that I understand more after
reading this book than I did before, and I believe that others seeking
to learn about Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (as well as Eastern
religions and philosophy) can benefit from it, as well.

I first heard of Karen Armstrong when I was an undergraduate in
college. I was taking an Introduction to Religions class, and the
professor assigned us Karen Armstrong’s biography of Muhammad. Karen
Armstrong also came to my college to speak, and I also listened to
preliminary discussions of her work among faculty. To be honest, at the
time, my impression of her work was not entirely positive. Her
biography about Muhammad did not particularly grab me: I preferred the
other book that we had to read because it clearly explained the history
and legends of Islam as well as its branches and the beliefs.
Armstrong’s book struck me as flowery and circuitous. Armstrong’s
speech did not resonate with me, either. It seemed to me that she was
dismissing the human ability to understand and to conceptualize God. As
a fundamentalist Christian at the time, I believed that I had the right
concept or picture of God, but even putting that to the side, I
wondered why anyone would want to worship and be in relationship with a
God about whom nothing can be posited. Something has to be said about
what God is like for us to get anywhere, right? I was not alone in this
concern.

But there was something that Armstrong said in that speech that
actually did resonate with me, at least somewhat: She said that trying
to understand God rationally was like eating soup with a fork rather
than a spoon. I was aware that there were people who had all sorts of
rational objections against the existence of God and Christianity. I
came across them often as a college student. Part of me felt threatened
by this, and part of me felt that their objections could be
surmounted. But I also wondered if there was a way to bypass
rationality altogether and to accept religion as something valuable and
nourishing, even if its reality could not be rationally or evidentially
supported.

About a decade later, I was working on a presentation about Jews and
Christians in Byzantine Jerusalem, and one of the sources that I was
using was Karen Armstrong’s Jerusalem: One City, Three Faiths.
I did not read the book cover to cover, but I was impressed by what I
did read. I liked that she explained the nuances of the Arian
controversy in an understandable narrative style. Reading that part of
her book answered some questions that I had about the Arian
controversy. I write about that in my post here. That experience led me to believe that I would profit from reading her other books.

And I did profit from reading her History of God. The
historical parts of the book and the parts that summarized the thoughts
of prominent thinkers were the book’s chief asset, in my opinion. I am a
bit ambivalent about some of her theological conclusions, however, and
yet I am intrigued, perhaps more so than I was when I heard her speech
as an undergraduate over a decade ago.

There are certain themes that come up throughout Armstrong’s A History of God.
One is the question of whether God can be explained or conceptualized.
Throughout history, some have thought so, but a number have not. They
believed that there was some part of the divine that was beyond human
explanation, maybe even transcendent. We see it in parts of the Hebrew
Bible, where God glory or spirit stands in for God himself, and also
within strands of Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.
Some were open to saying that we can see God’s activity or energies,
but they sharply distinguished those things from God himself, for God is
beyond human categories, and is even indescribable. Some, such as
Aristotle, took this in the direction of saying that God was aloof and
unaware of what was going on in the world. Others, particularly
mystics, believed that they could achieve ecstatic union with the
indefinable God. Armstrong herself seems to prefer seeing God as
indescribable and mysterious, for she notes that serious abuses have
occurred when people have humanized God and brought God down to their
level. At the same time, she appears to sympathize with those who felt a
need to personalize God so that they could get through pain and
suffering. Moreover, she is against tossing reason out of the window in
religious discussions, for that itself has led to abuses. Armstrong
also may shy away from viewing God as aloof, for she seemed to me to
appreciate process theology, which holds that God is close to us and
that we can have an impact on God.

Second, there is the issue of whether God is one object among others,
or rather is being, or the ground of being. Armstrong seems to believe
that the former denigrates God. On God being the ground of being, she
refers to Jewish thinker Martin Buber’s notion that God is closer to
“I” than I myself am. Armstrong shies away from versions of the
cosmological argument that depict God as one agent moving others, for
that treats God as one being among other things. At the same time, in
discussing Thomas Aquinas’ cosmological argument, she notes that he,
too, regarded God as the ground of being. I do not entirely understand
what it means for God to be the ground of being, but Armstrong does
appear to prefer the idea that the cosmos emanates from God to the
notion that God created the universe out of nothing; perhaps that is
relevant to God being the ground of being.
Third, there is the question of whether God is an entity out there, or if we encounter God by looking inward.

Near the end of the book, Armstrong discusses atheism and
existentialism. She describes the view that religion promotes a
perpetual immaturity, as people rely on God and subserviently obey his
rules, as well as the attitude that religion alienates us from ourselves
(i.e., by depicting us as bad, by discouraging our efforts at progress,
by denigrating sexuality) and imposes on humans a tyrant in the sky.
Conservative Christians reading this may say that these atheists,
existentialists, and modernists flinched from religious rules because
they wanted to do their own thing, to cater to their fleshly desires
rather than submitting to the authority of a higher power. Perhaps
there is some truth to that, but I am hesitant to dismiss their critique
of religion without understanding it better. I agree with these
critics of religion that adherence to religion can look
immature, but I also am open to mature ways to practice faith. Plus,
people find all sorts of ways to cope in life, so I don’t feel remiss in
coping by relying on a higher power for strength, or accepting moral or
religious boundaries.

As when I was an undergraduate, I still wonder how I can have a
relationship with a God whom I cannot define. With what exactly would I
be in relationship? I have to have some picture in my mind of
what God is like, right? Armstrong herself appears to recognize this
problem, for she says near the end of the book that having a mystical
relationship with the divine is a long process, and that people who have
not undergone this process might not understand what such a
relationship would even look like. Good point!

There is now a part of me, though, that is open to seeing God as
indefinable, as mysterious, as something other than a large version of
myself in the sky. I would like to believe that God is vastly beyond
me, other people, even the universe. I do not go as far in this as
Armstrong may. My approach is to say that God has a personality, and
yet I—-with my small mind—-cannot grasp the totality (maybe even the
majority) of who God is.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Isaiah 59:15-17 states (in the NRSV): “Truth is lacking, and whoever
turns from evil is despoiled. The LORD saw it, and it displeased him
that there was no justice. He saw that there was no one, and was
appalled that there was no one to intervene; so his own arm brought him
victory, and his righteousness upheld him. He put on righteousness like
a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on his head; he put on
garments of vengeance for clothing, and wrapped himself in fury as in a
mantle.”

This passage raised questions in my mind. Why does God need to be
upheld by God’s own righteousness? And why does God need to wear armor
that, incidentally, is the same sort of armor that believers are to put
on in Ephesians 6:14 and 17?

Here are some thoughts:

1. On why God needed to be upheld by God’s own righteousness, one
explanation that I came across in browsing through E-Sword commentaries
is that God’s own recognition that God’s cause is righteous is what
supports God as God carries out God’s act of justice. Perhaps God is
discouraged: God sees injustice on earth and is dismayed that no one is
doing anything about it or seeking God, and so God has to act, otherwise
there will be no righteousness on earth. What motivates God amidst
this discouragement that God feels? The righteousness of God’s cause.

2. Commentators note that the armor that God wears is defensive.
Why would God need to wear defensive armor? Who can attack God? One
commentary I read said that God is so powerful that God does not need to
go on the offensive; that does not explain why God is wearing defensive
armor, though. Another commentator noted that pagan gods wore armor in
battle; perhaps Isaiah 59:17 is simply a case of people attributing to a
god what is true of themselves: they wear armor in battle, and so they
figure that their god must, as well. Edward J. Young says that “there
are several foes who would attack the Lord and seek His destruction.”
But who could succeed against a powerful God? I suppose that, if God
were to bring himself down and refrain from using his full might, God
could make himself more vulnerable to being harmed by humans. But maybe
God is guarding, not his actual person, since that is not vulnerable,
but rather God’s reputation. God in the Hebrew Bible is often concerned
about God’s glory. God wants it to be known that his act is righteous,
for that would encourage repentance. God acts, yet God is dealing with
the free will of human beings, and that makes God vulnerable:
vulnerable to failure in encouraging repentance, and vulnerable to being
misunderstood.

3. I did a search on the Babylonian Talmud. Baba Bathra 9b states
(in whatever translation that is on my Judaic Classics Library): “What
is the meaning of the verse, And he put on righteousness as a coat of
mail? It tells us that just as in a coat of mail every small scale
joins With the others to form one piece of armour, so every little sum
given to charity combines with the rest to form a large sum.” Here, it
seems that God’s armor of righteousness is applied to the duty of the
Jewish people to perform charity: God’s armor is not just about God but
about God’s people as well, namely, their moral responsibilities.
Similarly, Paul in Ephesians 6 tells believers to put on the armor of
God, and the details of that armor resemble the armor that God puts on
in Isaiah 59. Paul may very well regard the armor that God wears as
instructive for how God’s people are to act.

In Sanhedrin 98a, a rabbi applies Isaiah 59:16 to the son of David:
God may send the son of David (the Messiah) when times are so wicked
that God sees no intercessor. Interestingly, whereas the point of
Isaiah 59:16 is that God acts himself because there is no human being to
help him, that rabbi in Sanhedrin 98a depicts the Messiah as one who is
helping God in God’s act of righteousness, as if the Messiah is the
hand of God (though those exact terms are not used).

In the E-Sword commentaries, there were Christian commentators who
related Isaiah 59:16 to the Messiah, whom they consider to be Jesus
Christ. Jesus was God, according to their belief, and yet as a man
Jesus was vulnerable in the world of human beings. Jesus needed to
encourage himself that what he was doing was right, amidst opposition.
Perhaps Jesus even needed to put on spiritual armor to stay strong as he
was doing God’s work.

These are just speculations. I have not dealt much with the fact
that Isaiah 59:16-17 is describing God’s vengeance, but perhaps my
thoughts can still be consistent with that.

Monday, May 19, 2014

Christology has recently been a prominent issue within the
biblioblogosphere, due to Bart Ehrman’s new book and the responses to
it. I’ve been wanting to read Moule’s The Origin of Christology
for some time, since Derek Leman’s Daily D’var mentioned it a while
back, and the book looked interesting to me. Moule’s book was not quite
what I expected.

Ordinarily, Christology debates revolve around whether the New
Testament maintains that Jesus was God. Some say that all of it does.
Some say that different books in the New Testament have different
ideas. Christology debates also look at such issues as whether Jesus in
the New Testament pre-existed his earthly life.

On some level, Moule participates in this debate. He argues against
the idea that a high Christology (one that regards Jesus as divine) was
an importation of Greco-Roman religious ideas, which occurred due to
Paul (or even occurred later than Paul) and had nothing to do with the
historical Jesus. Moule argues instead that, in some sense, what Paul
thought about Jesus goes back to the historical Jesus.

Unlike many discussions of Christology, Moule does not focus much on
such issues as Jesus’ pre-existence. Rather, Moule’s focus is on the
communal Christ. In Paul’s writings, believers are said to be in
Christ, or part of Christ’s body, and so, in a sense, Christ is a
communal being (though Moule does not deny that Jesus was also a
historical individual). Moule compares Paul’s Christ to “the
omnipresent deity ‘in whom we live and move and have our being’—-to
quote the tag from Acts 17:28 which is generally traced to Epimenides”
(page 95). Moule contends that Paul and early Christians concluded from
their experience after Jesus’ resurrection that Jesus was more than a
man, that Jesus was a being who encompassed them, and in whom they were
participating. That would lead to the idea that Jesus was pre-existent,
and maybe even God.

While Moule in one place appears to trace the early Christian belief
in the communal Christ to early Christians themselves, Moule also seems
to maintain that, on some level, it was consistent with the message and
ministry of the historical Jesus. Jesus claimed to be the Son of Man,
and Moule believes that Jesus’ understanding of this term coincided with
how the Book of Daniel used it: to refer to Jewish martyrs, which is
communal, rather than a specific individual. Jesus, therefore,
exemplified Jewish martyrdom, which occurred to other Jews as well.
Jesus’ status of Son of God was closely associated with his baptism,
which has a communal dimension. I do not think that Moule draws a clear
line from Jesus’ own self-conception in the synoptic Gospels to Paul’s
conception of Jesus as a communal being. Moule does well, however, to
highlight that Jesus may have had some communal conception of his life
and mission, and that Paul had this view as well, even if Paul expressed
it differently.

Moule also argues that Paul’s presentation of Jesus as Lord may have
come from Judaism rather than Greco-Roman ideas, for the Aramaic term mar (which Moule claims means lord, or something similar) can sometimes go beyond being a mere polite address.

Near the end of the book, Moule has a discussion with another scholar
about the relevance of the communal Christ to the relationship between
Christianity and other religions. I vaguely understood this debate.
Moule may have been arguing that Christ encompasses all people, and thus
Moule favors an inclusivist view of Christianity or Christ, whereas the
other scholar was noting that Paul himself excludes people from
Christ’s body—-the Jews who did not believe in Christ, for example.
This made me wonder how exactly Moule was defining the communal Christ:
as the body of believers in Christ (the church), as the people of Israel
(for they appear to be relevant to Jesus’ self-understanding, in
Moule’s scenario), as the entire world (Jesus, after all, is the second
Adam, for Paul), or all of the above?

Sunday, May 18, 2014

At church this morning, the pastor told a story about theologian Karl
Barth. Barth spoke at Princeton, and someone asked him if he believed
that God could speak through religions other than Christianity. Barth’s
response was that God does not speak through any religion, including
the Christian one, but God’s revelation is through the son of God alone,
Jesus Christ.

That reminded me of something that I recently read in my old notes
about the Book of Isaiah. In my notes about Isaiah 63, I wrote: “Israel
is God’s heritage. Without God's people, who on earth would
know about God?” God in the Hebrew Bible works through a specific
community, Israel.

Both ideas are a challenge to me, as one who has come to lean in the
“spiritual but not religious” direction. I’ve been believing in a
benevolent higher power, but I have wondered if I could do so without
adhering to Jewish or Christian holy books.

I believe that God can bless people who look to a benevolent higher
power without adhering to a Jewish or Christian religious creed. At the
same time, I would venture to say that even, say, twelve-step
groups—-which promote a belief in God that is not necessarily
confessional (it can be, if you want, but it doesn’t have to
be)—-get some of their ideas about God and Christianity from Jewish and
Christian holy books. Even they are not entirely independent of what
Christians call “special revelation.”

There is natural theology, the notion that we can learn things about
God from nature, reason, conscience, etc. There are things in the Bible
that seem to support that (Romans 1:20; Acts 14:17). But nature does
not strike me as univocally good. There are destructive aspects of
nature. What message would nature even communicate about God? That God
loves beauty because nature is beautiful? But not all of nature fits
everyone’s conception of beauty. That God is orderly because nature is
orderly? I wouldn’t see nature as too orderly were I to experience its
harsh, destructive side!

Can we really bypass special revelation, if we want to know God? The
thing is, even if the answer is “no,” that does not solve a whole lot.
I’m reading Karen Armstrong’s A History of God, and she shows
rather effectively that different time periods and contexts have had
different conceptions of God or the divine. I recently listened to a
debate between agnostic biblical scholar Bart Ehrman and Christian
apologist and scholar Mike Licona, and Ehrman made the point that
ancient Christians would neither have recognized nor accepted
evangelical Christianity (or Ehrman said something similar to that). I
have my doubts that many evangelical Christians worship the God of the
Bible. Rather, my impression is that they draw from certain pictures of
God in the Bible, and they reinterpret parts that do not fit with their
worldview, as many throughout history have done.

I can somewhat sympathize with Barth. I believe that looking to
Jesus’ goodness, his act of atonement, and his resurrection is quite a
bit. From that, I learn to do good to others, to recognize my
sinfulness, to appreciate God’s love for me and for others, and to have
hope of entering a positive afterlife. But I don’t exclude that God can
demonstrate God’s goodness apart from a Christian confessional
context—-through nature, other religions, etc. Does this contradict all
that I have said above—-the doubts that I have expressed? Somewhat. I
do see some thread of love throughout the Bible, and also in the
cultures of the world, and maybe even in nature, even though I can also
observe phenomena that appear to contradict love.

The thing is, within the Bible, God is often in competition with
other religions, rather than treating them as alternative revelations of
himself.

Anyway, I’ll stop here. This post is starting to wear out its welcome—-and I mean to me, the person writing it!

Saturday, May 17, 2014

1. I Chronicles 10:11-12 states (in the KJV): “And when all
Jabeshgilead heard all that the Philistines had done to Saul, [t]hey
arose, all the valiant men, and took away the body of Saul, and the
bodies of his sons, and brought them to Jabesh, and buried their bones
under the oak in Jabesh, and fasted seven days.”

Saul had died in Israel’s battle with the Philistines, who captured
and dishonored Saul’s corpse. But the people of Jabeshgilead took
Saul’s body and gave it a proper burial.

The reason that the people of Jabeshgilead were so loyal to Saul, even at Saul’s death, was that Saul in I Samuel 11
delivered them from the oppressive Nahash the Ammonite. Nahash the
Ammonite, incidentally, would later be kind to David, according to II
Samuel 10:2. It’s an example of the old saying, “The enemy of my enemy
is my friend,” though, of course, David in the Bible did not see himself
as an enemy of Saul, while Saul saw David as an enemy. In a passage
that I find rather beautiful, David commends the people of Jabeshgilead
for burying Saul (II Samuel 2:4-6). In the political situation in which
David found himself, David had been supported by the very person who
had oppressed the people of Jabeshgilead, whereas the people of
Jabeshgilead were loyal to Saul for saving them from that tyrant years
earlier. David and the people of Jabeshgilead were not exactly
on the same “side.” Still, David admired and honored the loyalty that
the people of Jabeshgilead showed to Saul. He was willing to value
goodness, wherever he saw it.

According to the Jewish commentator Rashi, there was actually another
connection between Saul and the people of Jabeshgilead: that the two
might have been related. Saul was from the tribe of Benjamin. In the
latter part of the Book of Judges, all of Israel goes to war against
Benjamin because a brutal rape and murder occurred within Benjamin’s
territory. The people of Israel vow not to give any of their women to
Benjamin, thereby threatening to make the tribe extinct. When the
people of Israel later feel remorse about this course of action, they
seek some way to help the Benjaminites to find wives and to reproduce.
They learn that the people of Jabeshgilead were not present when Israel
vowed not to give any daughters to Benjamin, and so the people of
Jabeshgilead are not bound by the vow. The Israelites command a group
of men to kill the men of Jabeshgilead, and the group abducts virgins
from that area and gives them to the Benjaminites. The Benjaminites
then survive as a tribe.

What can I say? The relationship between Benjamin and
Jabeshgilead looks rather complex and checkered to me, as may be the
case with a number of relationships in life! You have a story
about how its men were killed and its virgins were kidnapped, all for
the benefit of Benjamin. Yet, Benjaminites are related to people from
Jabeshgilead, so there is a family connection between the two that may
entail mutual loyalty, as bitter as the events leading to that
connection may have been. Moreover, Saul, a Benjaminite, rescued the
people of Jabeshgilead from an oppressive Ammonite ruler. Perhaps Saul
did so out of family obligation, or simply out of outrage at the
injustice of the situation. In any case, the people of Jabeshgilead
were grateful to Saul for what he did, and they honored Saul’s
dishonored body after Saul’s death. They put their own lives at risk in
doing so, since they had to take Saul’s body from the Philistines.

2. I Chronicles 10:14 states that God was the one who killed Saul.
Granted, Saul committed suicide (v 4), but I Chronicles 10:14 says that
God actually killed Saul, since Saul did not inquire of the LORD.
People have contended that there is a biblical contradiction here, for I
Samuel 28:6-7 states (contrary to I Chronicles 10:14) that Saul did
inquire of the LORD, but the LORD did not answer him, and so Saul went
to the witch of Endor for guidance. Did Saul inquire of God or not?
Others respond that there is no contradiction between I Samuel 28:6-7
and I Chronicles 10:14: that Saul may have asked God a question in I
Samuel 28:6-7, but he was not truly seeking the LORD and the LORD’s will
in that case. I can somewhat understand both perspectives: the
two passages look contradictory to me, and the fundamentalist
harmonization strikes me as rather weak. Yet, I acknowledge that one
can pray to God in pursuit of one’s own agenda, which is different from
actually seeking God.

It is remarkable to me that, even though I Chronicles 10 and I Samuel
are clear that God rejected Saul, they still appear to depict the
people of Jabeshgilead as heroes because of their bravery in
demonstrating their loyalty to the divinely-forsaken king. God does what God does for God’s own reasons; we, however, are called to love.

3. I Chronicles 10:9 states that, after Saul was dead, the
triumphant Philistines sent Saul’s head and armor so as to carry good
tidings to their idols and their people. In the Septuagint, the Greek
word for bringing the good tidings is the word from which we get
evangelism. Evangelism in Christianity is carrying good news
about Jesus’ new reign and the life that Jesus has brought. Often, for
me, it has amounted to awkward conversations in which I have to tell
people about Christian doctrines, or defend controversial conservative
Christian positions or biblical portrayals of God that I myself find
troublesome, or convince them that they deserve to go to hell so that
they will accept Christ as their personal savior, but imagine seeing it
as joyfully carrying good news! Moreover, it is interesting
that the Philistines not only shared the good news with other
Philistines, but with their idols as well. One can probably reach all
sorts of homiletical applications of this, but one lesson I can see for me is that it is good for me to share my joys with God, since God is rooting for me.

4. The Orthodox Jewish Artscroll attempts to reconcile a biblical
contradiction. In Genesis 49:10, the patriarch Jacob predicts that
Judah will possess the scepter. That means that the king of Israel
would come from Judah, and he did, when David was king. And yet, years
after the time of Jacob, when Israel requested a king, God did not
select one from the tribe of Judah, but rather from the tribe of
Benjamin: God picked Saul, a Benjaminite, to be king of Israel. What’s
more, the prophet Samuel in I Samuel 13:13-14 tells Saul that God would
have established Saul’s kingdom over Israel forever, had Saul not
disobeyed God. So God was planning to make a Judahite king,
chose instead a Benjamite, and even had plans to make that Benjaminite
king over Israel forever, notwithstanding God’s prophecy through Jacob
years before that a Judahite would be king? That looks pretty messy,
doesn’t it?

The Artscroll offers a variety of solutions, sometimes drawing on
Jewish sources: that God was not intending for Saul to reign forever but
gave Israel Saul out of anger, knowing Saul would fail; that Israel
only felt a need for a temporary ruler because she experienced God’s
providence so strongly during the time of Samuel; that, even had
Saul not sinned, David would still have been king, and Saul either
would have ruled the descendants of his ancestress Rachel (Benjamin,
Ephraim, and Manasseh), or Saul would have been like a vice-king to
David.

These ideas seem, to me, to disregard I Samuel 13:13-14′s statement that God intended Saul to rule over Israel forever.
At the same time, the last idea addresses a question that has long
bothered me: Did Saul have a choice as God’s rejected king to make peace
with God? What if Saul had decided to stop fighting God and David, and
to let David be king? Would God have still killed Saul? Saul’s son
Jonathan died in battle, even though Jonathan was on David’s side.
Moreover, one could argue that the evil spirit tormenting Saul (I Samuel
16:14) was keeping Saul from repenting, by making Saul continually
upset about David. In my opinion, God would look a whole lot
better if Saul had the ability to repent, and also could find some niche
for himself after David became king, as the Artscroll suggests. Saul’s
choice would then not be between remaining king in violation of God’s
will and dying, for Saul could abdicate the kingship, find fulfillment
in God, and contribute his talents to God’s people. God, in that case,
would be extending some hope to the tragic figure of Saul.

Friday, May 16, 2014

My church started a new Bible study last night: When God’s People Pray. It is hosted by Jim Cymbala, pastor of the Brooklyn Tabernacle.

Here are some thoughts. Warning: This will be a long post.

1. I was struggling over whether or not to attend this Bible study,
for a variety of reasons: ideological differences, social anxiety, a
spiritual inferiority complex, wanting more time to read books, etc. I
was about to call my pastor yesterday morning to tell him that I didn’t
need a ride to the Bible study, for I would not be going. But something
changed my mind. I asked someone I know to check out her tarot cards
(or something similar to that) so I could gain insight about whether or
not to attend the Bible study, and she did so. Her conclusion from the
cards and the book accompanying them was that I may experience some
discomfort at the Bible study, but that I will ultimately be glad that I
went.

This was actually pretty ironic! Not long ago, I was watching a YouTube clip
of Pat Robertson answering questions that viewers sent him. One
question concerned tarot cards, and Pat was saying that people who
consult them are hearing messages from the devil. Another viewer asked
how we can be sure that the Bible is not from the devil, since II
Corinthians 11:14 states that Satan can transform himself into an angel
of light. Pat responded that the Bible coincides with good values, and
he also said that the Bible promotes praising God, something that Satan
would never support. Well, according to his logic, Satan wants me to go
to a Bible study! Go figure!

Incidentally, the person who read the cards for me is quite
disenchanted with organized religion. She respects my church
attendance, but she said that she herself would never go to a church
Bible study, and that she could identify with why I was hesitant to go.
The fact, therefore, that she was encouraging me to attend the Bible
study, notwithstanding my reservations, got my attention!

At Harvard Divinity School, I had to do field education for my M.Div.
program, and I was part of a group in which students shared their
experiences with each other and sought feedback. We had to write papers
in which we detailed an experience that concerned us, then referred to
something (a story, an idea) in our religious tradition of which the
experience reminded us. Allow me to do that here! Yesterday, I felt
like King Saul, who went to the witch of Endor because he prayed to God
and got no answer. I liked the message from the tarot cards because
they seemed to speak to my situation, and they appeared to be
sympathetic about where I was. Why don’t I ever get that from prayer,
Bible study, or certain believers? I wasn’t getting much from prayer,
in this case. I did an online search and found someone talking about
her reservations about her church’s Bible study, and a pastor commented
that she was selfish. I needed something other than “Tough it out.”

Of course, I don’t want to believe that I am deciding between
Christianity and something else. What is interesting is that, after I
heard the interpretation of the cards, I felt at peace, and I was then
joyfully listening to Christian sermons. Perhaps God can speak to
people in all sorts of ways.

2. The first session of the Bible study was all right. A couple of
people there were getting into a little debate about whether we had to
ask God for something for God to do it for us, or if God may do it for
us without us asking, since God already knows our needs. One person was
saying that God assists those who are trying to follow Christ’s
teachings, but we watched on the DVD the story of someone whom God
rescued, even though he wasn’t exactly following Christ’s teachings: he
was a photographer for Vogue but ended up on the streets due to
a drug habit, and he was hearing annoying or hostile voices in his
head. Yet, when he cried out to the Lord on his hospital bed, he began
to experience healing.

Another question was whether God is more likely to answer prayers
when a bunch of people are praying for something, as opposed to when
just one person is praying.

One guy aptly said that you cannot put God in a box, since God is
sovereign. This was pretty ironic, coming from him. He is a
conservative evangelical. He argued a while back that people who engage
in homosexual conduct will not go to heaven, for I Corinthians 6:9
declares that homosexual offenders will not enter the Kingdom of God.
He said that we need to treat the words of the Bible in an absolute
sense, otherwise what assurance does he have that he will go to heaven?
(His assurance depends on the Bible’s declaration that people are saved
by trusting in Christ for salvation, which he does.) Yet, he was saying
that you cannot put God in a box! My impression was that he often put
God in a box!

Notwithstanding whatever disagreements I have with him, I agree that you cannot put God in a box. I don’t believe that we have
to pray for God to act on our behalf, for God can meet our needs
without us even asking, but I think that prayer is useful, for reasons
that people stated in the group: it allows us to depend on God, it
builds our faith, it helps us to clarify to ourselves what our true
needs are, etc. On whether God is more likely to answer the prayers of a
group rather than those of one individual, I agree with what one lady
in the group said: that God can answer the prayer of only one person.
Still, God may choose to answer the prayer of a group to build that
group’s faith.

3. The church that I attend is Presbyterian. We are not overly
expressive when it comes to our religion. One lady there was fondly
recalling her time in a Pentecostal church, when she would get
enthusiastic in worship or lift up her hands in adoration to the Lord.
She said that made her feel good, yet she is reluctant to lift up her
hands at the Presbyterian church because people might start talking or
look at her funny! The pastor told her that she should never feel
embarrassed about lifting up her hands, and he said that he himself did
so during the worship service. And he’s right about that: I’ve seen him
lift up his hands on numerous occasions!

Ordinarily at Bible study, the pastor alone does the closing prayer.
But the pastor said that he hoped that we would eventually get more
comfortable in the course of the study with adding our own prayers to
the mix, however brief they might be. We didn’t do that last night, but
maybe we will as time progresses! Personally, however, I prefer the
status quo. I don’t miss listening to mini-sermons or rebukes
masquerading as prayers, as occurred in one small group I was in.

My pastor seems to admire evangelicalism and its passion and fervor,
yet he realizes that our Presbyterian church is where it is. I would
say that there are times when our worship is lively, and times when it
is not so much. My approach to worship is rather contemplative: Often, I
prefer to read the lyrics of a song rather than to sing them, for those
old hymn’s lyrics can be rather deep! But there are also times when I
feel like moving my body to some rhythm!

4. The pastor was asking about liberal churches and why they don’t
seem to pray that much, at least not informally, in the sense of really
talking to God. The more evangelical person in the group responded that
it was due to rote and tradition. There was then a discussion about
whether or not people in our general culture are aware of the human
instinct to cry out to God. Many people in the group thought not. The
evangelical mentioned a bumper sticker he saw that upset him: “If you
don’t pray in my school, I won’t think in your church.” He felt that
Christians were besieged by atheists.

I did not entirely agree with the tone of this discussion. I believe
that liberal churches do pray, but not necessarily in the way that
evangelicals do; my impression is that their prayers are more
contemplative or meditative. Moreover, I would say that people in
society desire some guidance or communion with a higher power, even if
they might not pursue it within the church. I was thinking of
expressing these points in the group, but I did not, either out of
shyness, or a desire not to disturb the spiritual flow of the group with
my ideological objections. Unfortunately, I keep replaying in my mind
what I wanted to say last night in the group!

Although I am against demonizing liberal churches or looking down on
them, I do have to admit that I share my conservative friends’
impressions, in areas: It does not seem to me that liberal churches
really do emphasize prayer, in the sense of asking God for provision or
revival. (I am open to correction on this.) I remember Pastor Tim
Keller in Manhattan saying that you don’t see revivals in Unitarian
churches, and his point there may have been that God backs conservative
Christianity. I have wondered why mainline churches are dying whereas
evangelical churches are growing. I don’t believe that it is because
evangelical churches have the truth, whereas mainline churches do not,
for my impression is that there are areas in which mainline
Protestantism is correct whereas conservative evangelicalism is not: I
think of Biblical inerrancy and evolution. Perhaps God blesses
evangelical churches because they pray to him more: they want to make a
positive difference in the world, they want to bring people to God, and
so God honors their request. Even if people become evangelicals and
hold some wrong views, evangelicalism still brought them into a
relationship with God, and God blesses its passion, fervor, prayers, and
love for him.